She gave a watery laugh at that and raised her head. She found that he was close, dangerously close, so she pulled a safer distance away. He released her with obvious reluctance, and they stood staring at each other for an awkward moment—each wanting the same thing but certain the price the other would have to pay was too high.
Sarah broke the strained silence, swiping away her tears.
“I’m sorry, Malloy. I had no idea.”
For a second, he looked as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Then he ran one over his face, as if to clear his thoughts. “I shouldn’t have yelled,” he admitted. “It wasn’t your fault. Are you all right?”
“I will be.” She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes, wondering how badly her face was blotched. “I could use a cup of tea.”
“I’ll make it for you,” he offered almost gratefully and led her into the kitchen.
True to his word, he made Sarah sit down while he put the kettle on. She was always amazed at how comfortable he was at domestic tasks. He sat down opposite her at the table while they waited for the water to boil.
“You said there was blood . . . splattered blood,” Sarah recalled with distaste. “I guess she wasn’t smothered then.”
“Someone cut her throat,” he said baldly.
She winced, knowing his bluntness was her reprimand.
“How awful.”
“It was fast, at least.” He briefly described what Doc Haynes thought had happened.
This time Sarah shivered. “But who would want to kill her?”
“That’s pretty easy to figure out. Somebody who wanted her to stop trying to get the baby so the trouble would be over.”
“But you said Tammany wouldn’t back down.”
“They were trying to get the baby back for Mrs. O’Hara.
If she’s dead, there’s nobody to fight for. If they did get the baby from the Ruoccos, what would they do with it?”
“Oh,” Sarah said in dismay, realizing that suspicion would fall squarely on the Ruoccos. “Could Ugo have sent one of his men to do it?”
“Maybe, just like he might’ve sent one to kill Nainsi, but it doesn’t seem likely. Yesterday, he was trying to convince me that Patrizia Ruocco was the killer.”
“Mrs. Ruocco?” she echoed in amazement.
“They don’t get along. It started back when Mrs. Ruocco and her family came over from Italy. Her husband, who was Ugo’s brother, couldn’t get into the country because he was sick, so they sent him back to Italy. She stayed here with the kids, and he died alone. Ugo never forgave her.”
“And you think he’s accusing her of murder to get even?
But that was so long ago. What makes you think that’s the reason?” Sarah asked.
“Donatelli says Italians are like that.”
Sarah blinked in surprised. “You don’t believe she did it, do you?”
“She could’ve killed Nainsi,” he pointed out. “She had a good reason.”
“I guess she did, but the others had the same reason,” she argued. “It could just as easily have been one of them, and she seems too sensible to take a chance like that.”
The water was boiling, so Malloy got up and poured it over the leaves in the pot to steep.
“Do you think the same person who killed Nainsi killed her mother?” Sarah asked.
“That would make it nice and neat, but it might be more than we can hope for.” He paused. “I’ve got to ask you some questions about your visit with Mrs. O’Hara.”
“Of course,” Sarah said, touched that he would be reluctant to bring up an unpleasant memory.
He sat down again. “Do you know what time you were there?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I went there right after I left you yesterday morning.”
“Oh, yes, right after I told you to go straight home,” he remembered with annoyance.
She smiled sweetly, refusing to be baited.
“How long were you there?”
“Not long. Half an hour at most. Then I went straight home.”
“Finally,” he muttered. “What did you talk about?”
“I told her all the things she’d need to know to take care of the baby. I thought . . . I admit it, I thought that if she knew how difficult it would be, she might reconsider and let Maria have him. She’ll have a terrible time trying to keep him fed with goat’s milk from bottles. She’ll never be able to keep the bottles clean and getting the milk will be a constant struggle . . . Oh, listen to me, talking like she’s still alive. Anyway, I tried to make her see that the poor little fellow wouldn’t have much of a chance living with her.”
“Didn’t she believe you?”
“I think she did, but she didn’t care. She must have thought anything was better than letting the Ruoccos have him. She reminded me that one of them had killed Nainsi.
In her place, I would probably feel the same way.”
“And now one of them has killed her.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Sarah argued.
“Two of the Ruocco boys left the restaurant last night.
We’d stationed some men to watch the place, in case the Irish made another visit, and one of them followed them to a dance house.”
“They were going dancing when a mob might attack the restaurant at any minute?” she asked incredulously.
“We thought that was funny, too, and when we went to the dance house, they weren’t there. We never did find them, either.”
“So they could’ve gone to Mrs. O’Hara’s,” Sarah mused.
“It would be a logical solution to their problems. If they killed her, she wouldn’t be around to cause any more trouble and keep demanding they give her the baby. No mobs would try to burn their house down, and nobody would want to take the baby away anymore.”
“Poor Mrs. O’Hara. I wonder if she had any idea she was in danger.”
“Tammany probably promised to protect her on top of everything else.”
Frank got up and poured a cup of tea. Then he reached into a cupboard and pulled out the bottle of whisky that he knew she kept for medicinal purposes and splashed a bit into the cup. He set it down in front of her and took his seat again.
She looked askance at the spiked tea.
“You need it,” he said. “A little sugar will cut the taste.”
She obediently put a spoonful of sugar in and stirred. On second thought, she added another. “If only we’d found the killer,” she said.
“Finding the killer wouldn’t have solved much,” Frank pointed out. “Mrs. O’Hara might still be alive, but she’d still want the baby, and somebody the Ruoccos love would be in jail. Tammany would probably still be trying to get the baby and sending mobs down to Little Italy.”
“Why would they take a chance by killing Mrs. O’Hara, though? Yes, it might stop the mob attacks, but it wouldn’t stop you from trying to find out who killed Nainsi. That’s the real danger to their family.”
“And now I’ve got an even bigger reason to find the killer. The penny press will probably be full of stories about the Black Hand cutting people’s throats, stirring up even more trouble.”
“I didn’t think of that!” Sarah said in dismay. “The Irish might even march down to Little Italy again to get revenge for Mrs. O’Hara!”
Malloy winced and rubbed his forehead. “I hope to God nobody else thinks of that.”
Sarah picked up her cup and took a sip. The whisky fumes cleared her nose and burned her throat, but she forced down a swallow. After a moment, she could feel the warmth settling in her stomach. “If two of the Ruocco boys went to kill Mrs. O’Hara last night, then one of them must have killed Nainsi, too.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean they might’ve killed Mrs. O’Hara to protect someone else in the family.”